Page 80 of Beautifully Wounded

“Angel, I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

He steps up before me, and I press myself back into the wall, trying to see his face, but all there is, is a dark shadow.

Shaking my head again, I squeeze my lids tight, repeating over and over,no, no, no.

Light filling the room catches my attention, and I pry my lids open to see Ringo moving back towards me from the bedside table where he just turned on the lamp.

The concern etched over his features stuns me. I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting anger. Frustration. Even hate. But not concern.

“I want to help you, but I don’t know how,” he admits as he drops his arse to the end of the bed, defeat dragging his shoulders down.

I’m still pressed against the wall like he’s about to attack at any moment, and the humiliation of it all is just too much. Hottears burst from my eyes and I slide to the floor, bringing my knees to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper through my tears, and a moment later, Ringo is there on the floor with me, shaking his head.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that out there. Fuck,” he rakes his hand through his dark waves, “I shouldn’t have brought you to a place fuelled by sex when clearly it’s been used against you.”

A sob leaps from my throat, and I hide my face behind my hands. “Will I ever be normal again? Will I always see those monsters?”

“Those?” Ringo asks, and a moment later, his hands come to mine, gently peeling them from my face. “Angel, you said those.”

Even though my tears still fall, I remain as still as I can, unsure of what to do.

Do I tell him the truth? If I do, will he still look at me the way he did outside?

“Angel, please talk to me. If not me, talk to Jols or Lexi. Don’t carry this on your own.”

I shake my head, because I just don’t know what to do. It’s been so long since I could trust anyone.

“I’ll go and get Jols,” he says with an edge of disappointment in his tone.

Would he rather I tell him and not her?

When he goes to stand, I reach out quickly, latching onto his hand, desperate for him not to leave.

“I’m scared,” I admit, and slowly, he lowers back down, moving closer again, not letting go of my hand.

I stare at his huge hand engulfing mine. His skin is so much darker than my paleness, his fingers older, showing signs of wear andtear, and even as strong and masculine as they are, their hold is gentle and warm, and I find myself scared he’ll let go.

“You’re scared of me?” he asks, and I shake my head, but then I shrug, my actions making no sense.

“I’m scared of what you will think when you find out.”

“Find out what, Angel?”

“What they did,” I whisper, tears blurring my vision as I stare at our joined hands.

“Hey,” he rasps, hooking his fingers under my chin to lift my head and gaze to his. “Look at me.”

I do.

“Do you think I will think less of you?”

I nod, “amongst other things.”

His lips thin. “I can assure you, there’s nothing you can say that would make me want to turn my back on you. Nothing would stop me from wanting to protect you.”

My lower lip trembles as I work up the courage to ask something I’m not sure is even there, yet I’m so drawn to this man, I just have to know.

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